


consumed with what's to transpire

by Calex



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, College Student Stiles, Fluff and Smut, I'm not even kidding, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Near Future, PWP without Porn, Rimming, This is all porn, and fluff, offscreen minor character death, so much porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:46:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calex/pseuds/Calex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College was supposed to be the time of his life, and instead of partying it up and doing all the sexual experimentation that movies had kept telling him he was going to do, he was sad and missed his boyfriend, and the only action he'd managed to get was from his own right hand. Because of course Derek would also be too much of a prude for Skype sex. Or even phone sex.</p>
<p>Jesus Christ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	consumed with what's to transpire

**Author's Note:**

> ...I just wanted to write some Teen Wolf smut, so I did? I have no excuse for this. Also, I am so out of practice with writing, and especially writing smut that it's kind of laughable. This is pretty much all smut. This is also completely unbetaed, so sorry for any mistakes. And mostly written in the space of a couple of hours, ack. 
> 
> Title comes from Kings of Leon's 'Sex On Fire'.

He'd been gone for two months. Two horribly long and lonely months. It was so pathetic Stiles wanted to kick himself in the balls, because out of all of them who he'd have thought would be ridiculously attached to their significant other and pining while in college, he'd have thought it would be Scott. But Scott and Allison are somehow attending the same college, and despite the two years apart, Lydia and Jackson were back together and had somehow conspired - unknown to the rest of the pack - to go to the same college, too, and Isaac was enjoying single life. Boyd was the only one unattached, but even he was indulging in the occasional night socialising outside the pack and sleeping with people, even if anyone with eyes could see that he was still grieving for Erica.

 

Stiles was the only one out of all of them who was miserable and why? Because their stupid fucking Alpha finally got his head out of his ass and admitted that the ridiculously huge crush Stiles had been harbouring for the past two years wasn't as one sided as he'd thought...a week before he left for college. Which seriously, fuck Derek. Fuck Derek, because one week was not enough to make up for the two years worth of pining and sexual frustration Stiles had suffered over him. He'd thought his dick was going to drop off from all the jerking off he was doing over Derek from the summer of Junior year all through Senior year.

 

And Derek hadn't even had the decency to fuck him before he left! Not that they hadn't done anything else, but seriously, no actual penetration had taken place because Derek was six feet of manpain and brooding angst. Which was going to change, okay, it was going to change because college was supposed to be the time of his life, and instead of partying it up and doing all the sexual experimentation that movies had kept telling him he was going to do, he was sad and missed his boyfriend, and the only action he'd managed to get was from his own right hand. Because of course Derek would also be too much of a prude for Skype sex. Or even phone sex.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

Which explains why, after he'd dropped his things off at his dad's place and spent some time with him, Stiles had driven over to Derek's loft when he knew for sure Derek was going to be busy re-bonding with his betas or whatever, letting himself in with the key Derek had given him right before he left. No, wait, Derek hadn't even given it to him like a normal human being. It had just appeared on his keyring, to join his housekeys, and Derek had steadfastly refused to say anything to Stiles when Stiles had confronted him about it. Or even looked at Stiles. But that's okay, because Stiles has accepted the fact that his boyfriend is the actual worst at emotions. Derek's just lucky Stiles likes him so much. So yeah, he was inside Derek's loft, waiting for him to come back, and trying to decide the best way to approach things. Because mission 'Seduce Emotionally Constipated Alpha Werewolves (And Get Stiles Laid)' was going to happen, goddamn it, if it's the last thing Stiles does.

 

He considers candles, and just as quickly rejects it. He also rejects champagne and rosepetals, because he's not actually a girl, and neither is Derek. Also, he's a broke college student, so no. He considers cooking for Derek, but he knows that Derek and the betas will get something to eat before Derek comes back, so that was out.

 

Finally he just decides to go with the simple and straightforward route, so he just waits for him on his bed.

 

Naked.

 

He feels really smug when Derek gets into the bedroom and almost chokes on his own tongue when he sees him. Stiles smirks as he lazily scratches his stomach, nails rasping against the hair trailing under his navel. Derek's staring at him, and Stiles can feel his eyes like a physical touch, dragging over the lines of his body. He almost shivers, and actually does when Derek's pupils dilate, eyes darkening as he sees Stiles's cock half hard already. He shifts, stretching, to show off muscles hard earned from hours of running away from the things that go bump in the night - and after them, too, he's not going to deny that they're probably a little mentally unbalanced and suicidal enough to go chasing after trouble - and being in first line of lacrosse for the final year of high school. He's no sculpted Greek god like Derek is, but Stiles isn't the insecure sixteen year old that Derek first met all those years ago, now. He's nearly nineteen and he's managed to gain a little self-awareness, a little self-confidence. Besides, Derek had at least made it abundantly clear the week they did have together that he found Stiles attractive. So Stiles stretches and shows off a little, preening at the way Derek's eyes gets hot and hungry, especially when he raises his hands and links them above his head. He knows what he looks like, because that's exactly what's happening. He's offering himself, submitting himself to Derek's gaze and (hopefully, eventually) to Derek's touch. That finally gets Derek moving.

 

He goes to hang his jacket first, on the back of a chair, because Derek's ridiculous about his leather jacket like that. Then he quietly and efficiently strips off the rest of his clothes. Stiles licks his lips, staring at Derek just as hungrily as Derek had stared at him. No one could blame him, though, because fuck, Derek's body is ridiculous.

 

"How are you even real?" Stiles finally says, voice little more than a croak, and he's almost startled by the way he already sounds more than a little breathless. Derek stills, looking over his shoulder at Stiles at that, and Stiles sees the corner of his mouth twitch. But Derek doesn't say anything, just folds his clothes neatly over his jacket with very deliberate movements, and Stiles knows that he's doing it just because he's a complete asshole, but he can't even find it in himself to complain because every move makes Derek's muscles _ripple_ in a way that makes it harder for him to breathe, and makes his dick so fucking hard it could shatter. He slides off the bed, sees Derek register the move in the way he stills for barely a split second, before he goes back to what he's doing.

 

Stiles steps behind him, lays his hands on Derek's shoulders, feel the hot, smooth skin against his palms, drags them across the breadth of Derek's shoulders, down his biceps, circling his fingers around Derek's wrists. He watches Derek's hands finally still as he presses closer, hisses when his cock pushes greedily against Derek's fucking unreal ass, can't help the way his hips move in a little, circular grind. His heart's beating out of his chest, but he can feel Derek's beating just as hard, and that hits him almost as hard as the soft sigh Derek lets out before he lets himself lean back against Stiles. Stiles's hands tighten their hold on Derek's wrists slightly as he lowers his lips to Derek's nape, drags his teeth against skin and feels the push of bone underneath. Groans when Derek shudders and tips his head, baring the long line of his neck to Stiles's mouth.

 

"Fuck," he whispers against Derek's skin, feels Derek shudder again, and drags his tongue up along Derek's jugular to nip his earlobe. Derek's all but vibrating in his arms, and Stiles never thought, in all the hours he's spent fantasising about this, that Derek would let him take so much control. All of his fantasies had involved being pinned to the wall, the door, his bed, having all of Derek pushing down on him, taking him apart, fucking him through any and all surfaces until he couldn't remember anything except for Derek.

 

This? This is the furthest thing away from that. This is Derek _trusting_ him. This is Derek giving _him_ control. 

 

Suddenly Stiles doesn't want to have some quick, desperate fuck. He doesn't want to start something that's going to end as soon as it begins. He wants to drag it out, make it last, wring every bit of pleasure out of both of them until they're both trembling and unsteady and so fucked out they can't move, or speak, or _breathe._ Stiles wants to take Derek apart, piece by piece, and put him back together again with his hands, his mouth, his tongue. It doesn't even matter who fucks who, he wants to take all of the burden of leading from Derek's shoulders, and make him forget for a couple of hours.

 

Ambitious, Stiles thinks wryly, because he might not be a virgin anymore, but it's still a pretty close thing. 

 

He lets go of one of Derek's wrists so he can turn him around, and then slides his hands back up to cup Derek's face, feels his stubble tickling Stiles's palms. Derek's so fucking quiet, eyes dark and intense as he looks at Stiles, and Stiles can't do anything except smile helplessly and leans in to kiss him, a soft, gentle, almost chaste brush of lips on lips. Derek lets a whine escape his throat, tilts his head and tries to deepen the kiss, but Stiles pulls away just enough to keep the kiss light and teasing. He coaxes Derek into relaxing with nothing but his lips and his hands firm on Derek's jaw. A hand slides to cup his neck, and Derek's eyes flutter shut, groaning, and that's when Stiles deepens the kiss, lets his tongue slide out to trace the shape of his lips.

 

"Stiles," Derek rasps, so sudden in the almost complete silence of his bedroom that Stiles's pulse spikes in surprise. His tongue darts out to tease, and Stiles finally lets it, shivers as Derek groans and pushes into his mouth. His hands finally come up to grip Stiles's hips hard enough to bruise, staining Stiles's skin with his fingerprints. Not for the first time, Stiles mourns the fact that he can't mark Derek the way that Derek can mark him, wishes he could suck and press bruises into Derek's skin that will _last_ , not just disappear back under his flesh, absorbed into his body. But there's a subtle eroticism in that thought, too, that his touch is sinking into Derek's body, to disappear in his blood and bones to be a part of Derek forever.

 

He finally breaks the kiss when they're both breathless and breathing hard, taking Derek's hand to tug him to the bed. He pushes Derek down and crawls over him, settling on his heels where he's straddled Derek, knees on either side of Derek's hips. Derek looks beautiful all spread out under him, and Stiles lets reverent fingers trace over the curves and contours of Derek's body, dipping into the ridges of sharply cut muscle. Then he bends down to kiss Derek again, moaning when Derek surges up to meet him halfway, fingers digging into Stiles's hair to muss it up even more. 

 

His lips feel wet and bruised when he pulls back, tingling in the best way. He flicks out a tongue over them, grinning when Derek groans and bucks his hips up, cock dragging wet against his ass. He lets his hips grind back, seductive circles down, breath catching when he feels Derek's cock sliding against his crack. He leans down to kiss Derek again, filthy and hot and desperate before pulling back enough to whisper against his lips.

 

"Fuck me. Please fuck me, want you inside me, Derek, _please_."

 

Derek groans again, eyes flashing red as his jaw tightens and Stiles feels his nails digging into his hips, sharper than human. Derek takes a shaky breath, holds it, and when he releases it again, his nails are human blunt and his eyes are the same crazy light hazel that Stiles has been losing sleep over since he was sixteen and finally admitted to himself that okay, he's more than fine with dick as well as pussy, and maybe he has a thing for stubbled, leather jacket wearing Alpha werewolves.

 

"Side table," Derek says, voice like he's swallowed broken glass. Stiles scrambles, almost kneeing Derek in very sensitive places that would put an end to funtimes, but he manages to get the drawer open and takes out lube. He hesitates before he takes a condom, falling back to his heels and looks at Derek seriously. Derek looks back at him, concern furrowing his brows. "Stiles?"

 

"So I know we never talked about it," Stiles begins, then stops and bites his lips. Derek raises an eyebrow, and it's so ridiculous how expressive his crazy eyebrows are, but it isn't time to giggle right now, okay, Stiles is about to get _so laid thank god_ , but still - "your werewolf healing superpowers...does it apply to STIs?"

 

Derek blinks at him for a moment, completely and utterly shocked, before his eyes flashes red again, so fucking bright that it takes Stiles's breath away and makes his dick twitch. Which is ridiculous and so the wrong thing to be turned on about, but Stiles isn't a saint, okay, and his boyfriend is ridiculously hot and a werewolf and they're talking about fucking _bare_ and feeling all of that sliding into him without anything between them, feeling Derek come inside him, mark him from the inside.

 

"I can't give you anything," Derek says, finally, tone so even and careful that Stiles's hands shake in anticipation as he closes the drawer and lobs the lube to him. Derek catches it without taking his eyes off of Stiles, already uncapping the bottle and squeezing lube on his fingers even as he asks, "are you sure?"

 

"Very," Stiles says, voice shaking just as much as his hands, but he's sliding back into Derek's lap eagerly before Derek's hand on his hip stills him. 

 

"Hands and knees," Derek says gruffly, and he complies, looking over his shoulder as he feels Derek come up behind him. His breath leaves him in a hiss as he feels Derek slide his hand down Stiles's back, over his ass before he spreads Stiles's cheeks and runs slick fingers over his hole. They've done this together before, enough for Stiles to push back against Derek's touch, impatient, and Derek chuckles as he bends down and - 

 

"Hey!" Stiles yelps, glaring at Derek because what the fuck, Derek _bit_ him. On the _ass_. Well, okay, more like he'd nipped him, but still! "Keep your teeth to yourself, wolfboy."

 

"You sure about that?" Stiles can feel Derek smirk against his skin before he feels the sharp sting of Derek's teeth on his other cheek. It makes him flush, biting down on his lip to stop himself from making any noise. That only gets him a sharper nip, Derek's reprimand, because he knows just how much Derek loves hearing all the noises he makes. 

 

"Fuck you." Stiles gasps when Derek bites down again, lower down where his ass curves down into his thigh. " _Derek_." Derek grunts and finally presses a finger in, too fucking slow, but it glides in smoothly. They both groan when Stiles clenches around the finger involuntarily, then again more deliberately. He lets out a choked cry when Derek spreads him wide, and a hot, wet tongue traces where Derek's finger disappears into his body, hips shoving back. Derek's finger draws back equally slow, and he pauses when just the tip is inside, waits until Stiles whines and tries to shove back again, stopping him with a growl and another sharp nip. Then he shoves his finger in, fast and hard, making Stiles cry out. " _Fuck_!"

 

"That's it," Derek murmurs, pulling back to push in with two fingers, scissoring Stiles open and making him gasp and gasp and gasp at the stretch, the burn. Stiles cries out, head thrown back and back arched, fingers curling so tight around bedding that his knuckles are white and ache with it. He almost sobs when Derek curls his fingers, rubbing teasingly over his prostrate, before pushing in a third finger. He feels huge inside Stiles, but Stiles has sucked Derek off, okay, he knows that three fingers isn't anywhere close to Derek's cock, and it hurts, but it hurts so _good_ that Stiles feels tears pricking at his eyes. He squeezes his eyes shut, shudders helplessly as Derek keeps fingering and licking at him until he's shaking. Then he takes his fingers out and shoves his tongue in, curling in a way that has Stiles crying out and arching his back, head thrown back eyes completely blind, so fucking close. 

 

Derek makes a ravenous sound as both hands grip his cheeks open, tongue fucking into him relentlessly. He feels precome dripping from his cock, slicking his thighs and the sheets below him, and still Derek keeps fucking into him with his tongue, pulling out enough to circle around his hole, teasing until it twitches, needing. His head hangs down, between his shoulders, and he's shaking and shivering and he knows his cheeks are wet with tears and it _isn't fair_ because this was what he wanted to do to Derek, wanted to break Derek apart like Derek was breaking _him_ apart, making him feel like he was going to shatter. 

 

"Derek. _Derek_ ," Stiles says, broken, moaning, and Derek tears himself away. Stiles can hear the click of the cap opening as Derek squeezes more lube onto his fingers, hears Derek groan as he slicks up his cock, but he can't turn, can't look because his eyes are blinded with tears and he's so close that he knows if he just _looks_ he'll be gone. He just needs a touch to his cock, orgasm crawling so close up his spine that he feels like tearing at his skin with blunt nails to get it out, so he curls his fists in cotton instead and waits it out, waits and waits and waits until Derek knees his way back to Stiles, until he feels Derek's hand hot and firm against the back of his neck, pushing his chest down flat and feels the blunt, thick, wet head of Derek's dick at his hole. 

 

They both groan when Derek pushes in, Stiles biting at the sheets as his body swallows Derek in, one slow inch at a time. They're both almost silent as Derek moves, moves, and it feels like forever has passed until Stiles finally feels Derek's hips on his ass and Derek's cock a thick, hard, branding _weight_ inside him, all of it, every inch of Derek buried in his body. They're both shaking, he notices, and Derek curls over his body, grabs his hand and slots their fingers together. Stiles curls their twined fingers into a fist, bites down on Derek's knuckles when he starts to move, a slow pull and push that's barely moving at all, just making space for himself in Stiles's tight body.

 

Stiles can't breathe, can't think, and his eyes are squeezed so tightly closed that he can see spots of light. Derek bends slowly down, presses a sweaty forehead to Stiles's back, gasps wetly against his skin when Stiles pushes hesitantly back, clenching around Derek. They stay like that for a long moment, Derek's arm tight around Stiles's waist and his forehead pressed to Stiles's back, their hands curled together. Then Derek begins to move, and all Stiles can do is hold on.

 

It's not his first time, he keeps reminding himself wildly. It isn't his first time, but _oh fuck_ , it feels like it. Derek's so big in him, thick and hard and long and every drag of his dick presses and pushes against his prostate, makes him see stars, makes him mewl and claw and clench helplessly around Derek when he pulls out, only to shout when Derek shoves back in. And it goes on and on and on like that, sweat making their bodies slick and slippery against each other, pressed so closely. He can feel the sweat soaking into Derek's sheets where his forehead is pressed down on it, running distractingly down the backs of his thighs. His orgasm feels like a thousand fire ants biting and skittering under his skin, so close, but he can't - 

 

Stiles sobs out Derek's name, and Derek stutters to a stop. Before Stiles can complain, though, Derek pulls out and grabs him, flipping him on his back. He blinks up at Derek through the tears and sweat stinging his eyes, mouth dropped open and bitten raw when Derek pushes his knees up almost to his chest, and guides himself back in with a rough, almost brutal thrust. It makes Stiles's back arch right off the back, and he lets out a barely bitten back scream, hands scrambling to cling and claw at Derek's shoulders, his back. Derek blindly leans down to capture his lips in a messy, uncoordinated kiss, both of them barely doing more than breathing and moaning into each other's mouths, but it's about the contact, Stiles knows, and holds on to it.

 

His own dick is a firey brand against his stomach, straining and red, dripping with precome, almost purple with the need to come and Stiles groans, shoving his hips up to rub it against Derek's abs. The move changes the angle of Derek's thrusts to something that makes sparks go off in his head, and he does it again and again until Derek just grabs his hips and keeps him there, driving him hip and cock down and into Stiles over and over again, pulling out all the way before shoving back in. It's a brutal pace that pushes Stiles up, and his head is knocking into the headboard, but he can't even feel the pain. All he can feel is Derek in him, Derek all around him. 

 

He comes just like that, one moment so close but so painfully far from coming, skin tight and itchy with it, and suddenly he stiffens and his body arches and freezes as his eyes roll back in his head, vision going dark with the force of his orgasm, shooting hard enough that his come hits his chin, clinging to his jaw, and makes a mess of their bellies. Derek's rhythm is broken and uneven, graceless as he shoves into Stiles over and over until his hip stutters, and he pushes in as far as he can go and just _holds_. 

 

And if Stiles hadn't already come his brains out, he would've come at the feel of Derek's dick twitching inside him, shooting hot and wet inside, marking him so thoroughly no one with a supernatural nose could ever mistake what they are to each other. Derek's face is buried in the pillow next to Stiles's face, but when Stiles turns his head, he can see the sharp, furry points of Derek's ears, can see the heavy sideburns that marks Derek's beta form and suddenly he lets out a rusty, croaky laugh because wow. _Wow_.

 

"Wow."

 

Derek snorts, lifts his head up, and Stiles is almost disappointed to see that his features have bled back to human. He nuzzles into Stiles's neck, licking up sweat and cooling come which - Stiles wrinkles his nose - _gross_. 

 

"You're ridiculous," Derek says flatly, but Stiles isn't fooled, okay, he knows Derek's fond voice by now. He rolls his eyes but does his own nuzzling against Derek's cheek, feels his big, bad Alpha boyfriend melt at the gesture. 

 

"Your face is ridiculous."

 

"Why do I like you?"

 

"Because you're a masochist with good taste," Stiles shoots back blithely, but his voice is still rough because seriously, _wow_ , best orgasm _ever_. "We are so doing that again later. And again. And again until I go back."

 

Derek lets out a wounded noise, burying his face in Stiles's neck again. He sighs, cards his stiff fingers through Derek's hair and smooths his hands over Derek's back.

 

'I'm coming back, you know." It's been a few minutes, and Stiles's voice breaks the sullen, melancholy silence that has fallen. "I might be going away, but I'll always come back." _To you_ is unspoken, but Stiles hopes that Derek hears it, anyway. 

 

Derek nods minutely against him. "I know." Stiles presses a kiss to the top of Derek's head, then again, before he finally shoves at him. 

 

"Now get off me and carry me into the shower. We're disgusting, but I still can't feel my legs."

 

"You're changing the sheets." Derek obediently flops off of Stiles, ignoring the whimper of loss Stiles lets out when his cock slips out. Stiles snorts, arm flopping weakly to smack Derek in the chest.

 

"Whatever, talk to me when I have full control over my limbs again. Now, _shower_."

 

"As you wish," Derek says, rolling his eyes, but his mouth is quirked into a smirk when Stiles beams at him and kisses him soundly. Because really, the best thing that has ever happened to him was discovering that Derek is as big a dork as he is. And they might not be at the point in their relationship where they can make big declarations using words that start with "L" and end in "ove", yet, that's just as good as.

 

And for now, that's enough.

 


End file.
